TBAY: Crouch - C.R.A.B.C.U.S.T.A.R.D. (1 of 9)

[ssk7882 <skelkins@attbi.com>]

No: HPFGUIDX 47927

Hey, have I ever mentioned that the Crouch family subplot is my very 
favorite part of GoF?  Or that I absolutely adore minor characters?  
Or that I can get just a wee bit...over-emotional on the subject of 
the Bartemii Crouch?

No?

Well, now you know.

Some Crouch thoughts here, from the cheerfully insignificant (Was 
Crouch Sr. Dead Sexy?) to the unabashedly reader responsive (How 
much did Elkins hate Crouch Sr.?  Ooooh, *ever* so much!) to the 
possibly even marginally thematically relevant.  

Because I firmly believe that God is in the details, while relevance 
is usually the Devil's work, the trivial stuff got to go first.

This got long.  I have therefore divided it into nine separate posts:

Part One tackles the all-important question of whether or not Crouch 
Sr. was Dead Sexy.  Those who find this a somewhat less than 
compelling topic might want to consider yourself warned: there's 
really not a whole lot else here.

Part Two examines Crouch's political situation in the wake of 
Voldemort's fall and his motives in regard to the trial of the
Longbottoms' assailants.

Part Three challenges Eileen's reading of Crouch as Tragic Hero.

Part Four evaluates the motives underlying his political decisions
and how these relate to his narrative function.

Part Five contests the claim that Crouch saved his son from prison 
only in order to honour his wife's dying request.

Part Six examines his behavior in regard to his son after the QWC 
and takes a cold hard look at his thematic role within the text.

Part Seven concludes with a discussion of his mirror relationship 
with his son, his redemption scene, and his thematic function within
the context of the series as a bildungsroman.  It also contains some 
outright reader response.

Part Eight sweeps up a few stray odds and ends: Crouch's death, his 
sad sad life, and his possibilities as a future canonical ghost.

Part Nine discusses Winky's role in the Crouch family dynamic and 
expresses a few concerns over what it seems to imply about the 
authorial attitude towards women and the maternal role.  It also 
defends the Crouch/Winky ship.

All of these posts are long.  They are eccentric.  They are 
personal.  They are digressive.  They are Turbo-TBAYed.  And much of 
them were written long-hand in a yellow pad while I was sick in bed 
and running a very high temperature.

So.  You have been warned.


===================================================================

One

C.R.A.B.C.U.S.T.A.R.D.

------------


On a table on the promenade of Theory Bay, Eileen has set up a 
quantity of little paper cups filled with a substance that might once 
have had its origin as seafood. A banner above reads: 
"C.R.A.B.C.U.S.T.A.R.D. -- It's so exciting, it'll make your eyes 
bulge!" 

The reactions so far have been either puzzled or vaguely positive. 
But then Eileen hears a muffled gagging sound from her right.

"Elkins!"

"Ugh." Elkins, mounted astride a very high hobby horse, clops over 
to the table and looks down at it with an expression of supreme 
revulsion.  "Oh, I just can't *believe* that you're still out here 
flogging that red herring mousse, Eileen.  It's utterly revolting."

"It is not," Eileen objects indignantly.  "People seem to like it.  
Or at the very least not to mind it all that much.  Not like those 
Crouch Jr. apologetics that you're always trying to foist off on 
people from up on that *horse* of yours."

Elkins' hobby horse lays back its ears and bares its teeth.

"What have you got against my Crouch Jr. apologetics?" demands 
Elkins.  "*Or* the horse I rode in on, for that matter?  At least 
*Melody* liked my Crouch Jr. apologetics!  And need I remind you, 
Eileen, that young Bartemius is a member in good standing of 
SYCOPHANTS?"

"Oh, I know that, Elkins.  But Barty Jr. is...well, he's a sadist.  
And well...really, really evil."

"But he had so much fun!" cries Elkins passionately, gathering her 
reins in one hand and reaching down with the other to try to force a 
'Boys Will Be Boys: Barty Junior Had A Blast!' leaflet on Eileen.  
Eileen sighs.

"Err.... Could I make confession, Elkins?" she asks.  "Don't tell 
anyone I said this, okay, but I really, really love Barty Crouch Jr. 
I've fought against it a long time.  I just didn't *want* to believe 
that serving an evil Overlord, torturing the Longbottoms, killing 
your father, ensnaring Harry Potter, and plotting general death and 
destruction for the world could be viewed as a sympathetic feature of 
adolescent rebellion.  But in the end, you convinced me.  Now I just 
can't help myself.  I *do* like young Barty!" 

"Well, we'll talk about that later, if you want," says Elkins with an 
amused smile.  "But right now, let's talk about this...*custard* of 
yours, shall we?  One thing that I have never been able to 
understand, Eileen, is how a nice girl like yourself could ever have 
ended up with an acronym like 'Classy, Rich, Ambitious, Bold: 
Crouch's Unsung Sexiness Tempts All Raunchy Damsels.'  I mean, that's 
really rather *racy,* don't you think?"

"It did make me blush at first," admits Eileen, coloring prettily.  
"In fact, it took me months even to be able to see it appear on my 
monitor without having to quickly and demurely avert my eyes lest 
it sully my innocence."

"And now just look at you!" exclaims Elkins.  "Standing right out 
here on the promenade, in front of Stoned!Harry and the 5000 lurkers 
and everyone!  Selling it to the public!  Handsawing it to all 
comers!"

"I--"

"You shameless hussy!" 

"But I--"

"Don't start crying.  And *don't* grovel."

"But it's not my *fault,* Elkins!" wails Eileen.  "I only requested 
that acronym in the first place as a reaction to that horrible 
B.A.B.E.M.E.I.S.T.E.R., the definition of which escapes me right now, 
except that the second B. stood for Barty and the S. stood for 
sexier.  The whole thing just *frightened* me, and I wanted to put it 
out of my mind!"  

"Yessssss," says Elkins uncomfortably, trying to soothe her horse, 
which seems to have suddenly become unaccountably skittish.  "Yes.  
Erm.  Well.  To be quite honest with you, Eileen, BABEMEISTER rather 
frightened me as well.  You see, what happened there was that Tabouli 
overheard me making some comment about being a 'true fan' of young
Bartemius, and I fear that she must have thought that I meant it in 
the..."

An expression of profound distaste crosses Elkins' face.

"In the, er."  She coughs.  "In the romantic sense."

"And you didn't?"

"No!  Of course not!  I readily admit that I *am* partial to frail,
brilliant, neurasthenic young blondes, but I generally prefer for 
them to fall somewhere short of the psychopathic.  Edge is one 
thing.  Over The Edge is quite another.  I'll take a pass on that 
BABEMEISTER t-shirt, thank you. 

"Althooooooough," she adds, after a moment's thought. "You know, 
there is one thing that can be said for young Crouch as a fantasy 
partner..."

"Yes?"

Elkins smiles thinly.

"These days," she says.  "He doesn't talk back."

Eileen eyes her doubtfully.  "And this is a character you really 
*sympathize* with, is it?" 

"Well, it's a funny thing, how that works.  When you find yourself in 
strong reader sympathy with a truly wicked character, then it can 
sometimes be almost reassuring, in a strange sort of way, for him to 
meet with a very sticky end.  It just feels a whole lot *safer* that 
way.  After all, you know how I feel about allowing love -- *any* of 
the four loves -- to dictate my sense of moral approbation.  Liking a 
character has nothing to do with approving his actions."

"I know that!" exclaims Eileen.  "I *do* know it!  And while it's 
true that I have become quite enamoured of the Tough and Steely Mr. 
Crouch, I'm not enamoured to the point of blindness.  I can still go 
all Alexandr Solzhenitsyn on him when the situation demands it.  I've 
conceded his iniquities, haven't I?  I did so in message #44636."

"You have conceded *some* of his iniquities," Elkins corrects her.  
"But you still close your eyes to his true nature.  Oh, Eileen.  You 
have not even begun to delve the depths of that man's wickedness.  
Let me tell you a thing or two about that Bartemius Crouch.  He--"

"Well, he could hardly be worse than his son, now, could he?" 
interrupts Eileen irritably.  "And you *like* his son.  So why can't 
you admit that Crouch Sr. really did have some very noble and 
redeeming characteristics? Not to mention some Dead Sexy ones?  Won't 
you even try a *taste* of my CRAB CUSTARD?  You know that you'll like 
it, if only you'll give it a try."

"I will *not* like it," says Elkins firmly.  "It is vile."

"It is not vile.  It is conveyed by the text.  Look, JKR comes right 
out and tells us that Crouch was attractive:

> Until the very end, he was extremely attentive of his looks, he was 
> a very popular politician, and if you read all his description 
> pieces (when he isn't ready to pop a vein, in which case Rowling 
> reaches for the word "bulging",) he comes across as quite a 
> striking personality. If his eyes aren't "bulging" under the stress 
> of yet another personal tragedy, Rowling's favourite word for them 
> is "sharp." 

"You know, it's interesting that you should have brought up those 
bulging eyes," comments Elkins softly, glancing up at the 
C.R.A.B.C.U.S.T.A.R.D. banner.  "You emphasize them.  JKR emphasizes 
them.  The text positively *fixates* upon them.  It interests me very 
much, that."

"It does?  Why?"

Elkins shakes her head.  "I'll tell you later," she says 
quietly.  "Go on with your defense."

"Well, I went through _Goblet of Fire_ and catalogued every last 
reference to Mr. Crouch, and
> I was very much surprised to discover that most of the code words 
> for Crouch Sr. were rather attractive, contrast to Snape who gets 
> the most hideous code words in the book. I wouldn't be surprised if 
> this was a conscious contrast, indicating beauty is skin deep."

"So you're saying that Crouch Sr. was a spiritually ugly man?"  
Elkins smiles slightly.  "I quite agree."

"What?  Where did I--"

"You just said that Rowling contrasts Crouch's physical 
attractiveness with Snape's unprepossessing appearance in order to 
emphasize the notion that beauty is only skin deep.  So presumably 
this means that you must recognize that Crouch Sr's attractiveness is 
merely superficial.  That deep down inside, on some ethical or 
spiritual or psychological level, he is profoundly *ugly.*"

"I...I...well, no, wait..."  

"Also that his true allegiance is suspect."

"What?!  How did I--"

"Snape is on the surface a Dark Wizard.  He was a Death Eater, but he 
was secretly working against Voldemort.  So if you think that JKR is 
consciously contrasting these two characters, then just what does 
that imply about your dear Barty?"

"I...I...now, you STOP that!  You're twisting my words!"

"I am not twisting them.  I am merely parsing them."

"You're *twisting* them.  You're just being *difficult!*"

"Well," admits Elkins, with a slightly parsed smile. "Obedience has 
never been one of my particular virtues, Eileen."

"You're being *stubborn,* is what you're being.  You're...you're 
pulling a *Cindy!*  Refusing to concede the point, even though you 
know perfectly well that I'm right.  You know perfectly well that 
Crouch Sr. Was Dead Sexy!"

"Even though he had bulging eyes, a straight part and moustache 
reminiscent of Adolf Hitler, apoplectic tendencies, and beauty which, 
as if it were not debatable enough already, *still* only ran skin 
deep?"

"Well..."

"Even though you yourself have just suggested a literary parallel 
with Snape that suggests that although ostensibly working for the 
forces of good, deep down in his heart of hearts, Bartemius Crouch 
Was Ever So Evil?"

"Finding a character sexy," retorts Eileen hotly.  "Has nothing to do 
with approving his actions, any more than finding him sympathetic 
does.  Why won't you try my CRAB CUSTARD, Elkins? Haven't you read 
all of my posts?  Haven't they swayed you in the slightest?  Look!  
Just *look!*"

Eileen steps forward, her arms overflowing with the yellowed scrolls 
of Crouch Apologetics Past.

"He was suave," she says.  "A sharp dresser.  And brilliant, too -- 
he spoke over two hundred languages!  He had a dry sense of humour, 
and the ability to remain calm in even the most bizarre 
circumstances.  He was a terrific actor, just like his son.  He was 
exceptionally charismatic.  People paid attention to him when he 
spoke.  He had true power of command.  And on top of all of that, he 
reminds me of King Lear!"

"You found King Lear Dead Sexy?" Elkins stares at her.  "Eileen, that 
is just so *Bent!*"

"He's a proud and seemingly invulnerable man we later come to realize 
is in fact deeply wounded.  We see him suffering both nobly and 
terribly.  That means that he partakes of Hurt-Comfort!"

"Not to mention Comfort-Hurt," comments Cindy, who has stopped by to 
watch with a bemused expression on her face.

"Would you stop that!" cries Eileen.  "There is no such *thing* as 
Comfort-Hurt!"

"Sure there is."  Cindy turns to Elkins.  "You see, Elkins," she 
explains earnestly.  "Eileen here takes *comfort* in the knowledge 
that Crouch Sr. would not balk at *hurting* her."

"Slander!" screams Eileen.  "How dare you insinuate such a thing?  
And besides, there is *no such thing* as... Elkins, tell her, will 
you?  Tell her there's no such thing as Comfort-Hurt!"

"Don't be silly, Eileen," replies Elkins, choking back snickers.  "Of 
course there's such a thing as...uh, what Cindy has chosen to refer 
to as 'Comfort-Hurt.'  What else do you think makes Mrs. Lestrange so 
Dead Sexy? Or Lucius Malfoy, for that matter?"

"Just admit it, Eileen," says Cindy.  "It's those *jack-boots* you 
like so much."

"You said as much yourself," Elkins points out.  "In message #40543.  
Remember?  You said, 'Elkins, SYCOPHANTS were made to worship Tough 
people.'  You even said it in 'an impassioned, and curiously 
trembling voice,' as I seem to recall." 

"'Impassioned and curiously trembling,'" Cindy repeats.

"I...I...well, all right then!  All right!  *Fine!*  So maybe there 
*is* some appeal there.  I'm a SYCOPHANT, aren't I?  And we 
SYCOPHANTS really *were* made to worship Tough people, you know.  
It's in our contract and everything.  Our knees go *weak* in the face 
of the Tough and the Steely!"

"Eileen!" laughs Elkins.  "*Please!*"

"Well, they do.  Aren't you supposed to be a SYCOPHANT, Elkins?  
Surely you like those jack-boots too, don't you?  You were the one 
who first started slobbering all over the Dead Sexy Mrs. Lestrange, 
after all. So why won't you try just a taste of my CRAB CUSTARD?  You 
loved the man's son.  I assume that was at least in part because of 
your appreciation for his brilliance.  His brilliance and his 
manipulative talents.  Well, what about his poor father's 
brilliance?  What about his poor father's manipulative talents?  Just 
where do you think Barty Jr. got that from anyway?  That was Point 
Seven of my original CRAB CUSTARD manifesto, see?"

> 7. Barty Jr. inherited his talent for acting from his father.

"You think *that's* where he learned those talents?  From his father?
Huh."  Elkins leans back in her saddle.  "Huh," she says 
again.  "Well.  I guess that *is* an interesting question.  Where 
*did* young Crouch learn to manipulate people so well?  To hone 
unerringly in on others' weaknesses?  To exploit their 
vulnerabilities?  To get other people to do precisely what he 
wanted?"  She raises an eyebrow.  "You think he learned all that from 
his *father,* Eileen?"

Eileen narrows her eyes.  "You do know," she says, "that I don't LIKE 
Mrs. Crouch?"

"Like her or loathe her," Elkins says cheerfully, "you can't deny 
that she was formidable."

"Formidable?"  Cindy looks disgusted.  "Oh, please, Elkins.  She was 
*wispy.*  She rocks, she snivels, she faints.  She wastes away.  She 
doesn't even get a single line of dialogue.  She's not Tough.  She's 
a SYCOPHANT.  She's *Weak.*"

"Weak?  You think that Mrs. Crouch was *Weak?*  Oh, no."  Elkins 
shakes her head.  "Oh, no, no, no.  No, I really don't think so.  She 
walked of her own free will into Azkaban, where she knew that she was 
going to die.  In misery, reliving the worst memories of her life, 
cut off from everyone she loved, utterly alone.  She did this of her 
own free will.  And then, on her death bed, in a milieu in which 
people lose their sanity, in which people forget even who they *are,* 
she still managed to take her Polyjuice Potion, every hour on the 
hour, right up until her death.  Mrs. Crouch wasn't a SYCOPHANT, 
Cindy.  Mrs. Crouch was *Tough.*  Mrs. Crouch could have kicked 
Imperius around the *block.*  Mrs. Crouch made her husband look like 
a *piker!*  Mrs. Crouch was made of pure *steel!*  And as for that 
fainting spell..."

"Yes?" 

"Well, does it really seem in keeping with what we later learn the 
woman was capable of?  Is someone who can keep on sipping at her 
Polyjuice Potion even while surrounded by Dementors *and* on the 
brink of death really the sort of woman who swoons in a courtroom, do 
you think?  And honestly, now, didn't that fainting spell seem just a 
little bit *too* well-timed to you?"

"Dramatic license," suggests Eileen.

"Yes, but whose?  JKR's, or Mrs. Crouch's?  You know, I have a 
confession to make here," says Elkins, lowering her voice and 
glancing nervously up at the Safe House looming above the Bay on the 
far headland.  "I was seriously tempted by Pip's Ever So Evil Mrs. 
Crouch."

"I thought that Flying Hedgehog made you blanche!"

"Well, she does.  That's part of why I like her so much.  
*Especially* if you combine her with a Conflicted-In-Her-Loyalties!
Winky.  Put together, those two make for quite a devestatingly 
compelling little speculation.  But in the end, I'm afraid that I 
just can't quite make myself believe in them.  I do think that Mrs. 
Crouch was putting on an act there in the Penseive, though.  I'm not 
quite up for Death Eating Mrs. Crouch, but I'd say that her son took 
after her in a lot more ways than just physical frailty."

"He didn't get her strength of resolve, though," points out Eileen.

"No.  He didn't get her strength of resolve.  *Either* of his 
parents' strengths of resolve, really.  But then, you know, when you 
have someone who is an only child, a talented only child, an only 
child of a wealthy family, whose parents are both immensely devoted 
to each other, both highly invested in their child's performance, and 
who are *both* made of pure steel?"

Both Elkins and her hobby horse shudder violently.  She reaches down 
to stroke the horse on the neck.

"It's often difficult for people with that sort of upbringing to 
develop any normal sense of self-assertion," she says quietly.  "Or 
of independence.  Or of individuation.  Or even of identity, really.  
I think that the fact that Crouch Jr's parents were both so strong-
willed probably had a lot to do with his dissociative tendencies.  
That's a family dynamic that often encourages a child to engage in 
some rather...indirect modes of expression."

Eileen frowns.  "Indirect?"

"Indirect.  Circuitous.  Multiplicitous.  Sly, sidelong, allusive.  
Kaleidoscopic.  One might even say *schizopathic.*  Somewhat 
schizophrenic modes of expression, Eileen.  Double-edged statements.  
Hidden meanings.  Concretized metaphor.  And the tendency..."

Elkins' voice trails off.  She glances out over the Bay, taking in 
the diverse vessels, the flying flags, all of the landmarks: the 
Canon Museum, the Canon College, the Weather Station, the Safe 
House.  St. Mungos.  The Garden of Good and Evil.  She shivers 
convulsively and shuts her eyes.

"The tendency to get caught up in fantasy," she whispers.  "To allow 
oneself to become *subsumed.*  Subsumed into other people's desires.  
Subsumed into other people's *personae.*"

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.  "Yes," she says 
briskly.  "Yes, well.  We were talking about the *text* here, were we 
not?  And I do think that the text implies that Mrs. Crouch was not 
precisely what she appeared to be in that Pensieve scene.  I'd say 
that young Crouch probably learned more than a little about 
manipulation right at his mother's knees."

"Well, maybe," says Eileen.  "Maybe.  But Mr. Crouch was a master 
manipulator as well.  Just 
> watch how he manipulates Diggory in "The Dark Mark": down to the 
> point where he allows Diggory to question Winky superficially, and 
> keeps completely out of it to look objective, and then blocks 
> Diggory from actually finding out anything." 

"Why, yes."  Elkins smiles appreciatively.  "Yes, he *was* 
manipulative there, wasn't he?"  

"And I know how much you like that sort of thing, Elkins.  Everybody 
does.  Everyone knows that you adore manipulators.  So why don't you 
like canny old Crouch, eh?  He's younger than Harry thinks he is, you 
know.  He's described as 'elderly' when Harry first sees him, but 
that's just Harry's misapprehension.  He's not really that old at 
all, especially by wizarding standards.  When we see him in the 
Pensieve, it becomes clear that he's been aged beyond his years.
> He had grey hair in GoF, for sure, but a kid like Bartemius Jr. 
> would give anyone grey hair."

"Oh!"  Elkins laughs hollowly.  "Oh, ho, ho.  Oh, Eileen!  *Eileen.*  
My *dear!*  I *assure* you."  She bares her teeth unpleasantly.  
"Having *parents* like the Crouches can leave you with more than your 
fair share of grey hair as well.  You really want to *trust* me on 
this point.

"But," she adds, after a short silence.  "*That* is a matter for my 
therapist.  And besides, just what is so unsexy about prematurely 
grey hair anyway?  Grey hair is perfectly sexy in its own right!"

There is a long silence, punctuated only by the sound of crickets 
chirping off in the distance.

"Well, it is!"  Elkins turns away, shaking her head.  "Everyone 
thinks it's sexy when Lupin's got it," she mutters.

"Well, all right, then," says Eileen soothingly.  "All right.  If it 
isn't the hair, then what is it?  Why must you be so stubborn about 
this? You *know* that you'll like my CRAB CUSTARD, if only you'll 
give it a try."

Elkins shakes her head firmly from side to side.

"Oh, come on," wheedles Eileen, advancing on the horse, paper cup in 
one hand, spoon in the other.  "It's good.  Just try some, won't 
you?  Just a bite?  Just one--"

"Eileen!" Elkins says sharply, trying to control her horse, which has 
begun to back away skittishly.

"Suave, brilliant, manipulative, ruthless, jack-booted, partakes of 
hurt-comfort..."

"EILEEN!" Elkins screams, sawing at the reins of her bucking, wheeling
hobby horse.

Eileen hesitates, puzzled, her spoon half-raised.  

"Eileen," gasps Elkins, clinging to the neck of her horse for dear 
life. "Eileen.  You, uh, remember back when Tabouli coined that 
acronym for me? B.A.B.E.M.E.I.S.T.E.R?  When she misunderstood the 
nature of my feelings for young Crouch?  When she thought that it was 
a matter of romantic attraction?  You remember that?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it wasn't.  Okay?  It wasn't a case of romantic attraction at 
all. It was a case of *reader identification.*"

"So? I--"

"*Strong* reader identification, Eileen.  Reader identification based 
on strong *autobiographical congruence.*  Okay?"

"I..."  Eileen blinks.  "Oh."

"There's more than one alternative answer to the Third Task sphinx's 
riddle," says Elkins, now gone even paler than the horse she 
rides.  "And one of them has strong mythic precedent.  So can you 
please stop asking me to taste that custard of yours?  Please?  
Because you know, if I were to do that?  I mean, if I were even to 
*think* about it?  If I were to so much as contemplate putting that 
stuff anywhere near my mouth?  Even for a second?"  She laughs 
uneasily.  "Um," she says.  "Well.  That really *would* become a 
matter for my therapist."

"Oh, you have *got* to be kidding me," Cindy snorts.  "You feel a 
strong sense of reader identification with a mad, sadistic, 
parricidal *Death Eater,* Elkins!  And now you're...what?  Balking at 
a tiny bit of incest taboo?"

"As it happens, yes.  I'm not that Bent.  Not yet, at any rate."  
Elkins clutches her horse's neck, and looks at Eileen with large and 
frightened eyes.  "I can't concede that he's Dead Sexy, Eileen," she 
says.  "Please don't make me."

Eileen frowns.  "You do realize, don't you," she says in a tight 
little voice, "that I have never before won an argument with you?  I 
mean, not *ever?*  Not *once?*  And now that I finally have, you have 
the...the...the...the...the unmitigated *gall* to ask me not to make 
you so much as concede the *point?*"  

"But I'll be sick if I try to swallow that stuff," whines Elkins 
pleadingly.  "I just know that I will.  I'll never be able to keep it 
down.  Please don't make me, Eileen.  Please don't.  Please?"

Eileen exhales hard.  "Well, will you at least concede that the 
*text* marks him as Dead Sexy?"

"I will concede," Elkins says tentatively.  "That the text does 
encourage us to read him as *charismatic...*"

Eileen crosses her arms over her chest and scowls.

"And," Elkins stammers.  "And that it doesn't rule out a reading of 
Crouch as...well, as, you know, as attractive.  In a way.  If 
you...you know.  If you like that sort of thing."

Eileen raises one eyebrow.

"And, uh, that it does so," continues Elkins.  "Not only in all of 
the ways that you have already mentioned, but also by its repeated 
allocation of sexualized subplots to Crouch."

"Yes?" says Eileen coldly.  "Elaborate."

"Eileen, please, I..."

"*Elaborate.*"

Elkins looks into Eileen's uncharacteristically Tough and Steely 
gaze, then quickly looks away.  

"Well, all right," she says faintly.  "For starters, there's Winky.  
The text clearly marks Winky as Crouch's wife. Crouch confides his 
workplace troubles to her.  He allows her to intercede with him on 
behalf of his son.  She plays the maternal intercessionary role, 
mitigating the harshness of his paternal discipline.  She throws the 
memory of his dead wife against him. Ron says that she seems to love 
him.  And her anguish at having been released from his service is 
repeatedly emphasized as abnormal.  It isn't the usual reaction of a 
rejected House Elf.  It's different.  It's excessive.  It's personal."

"Yes?  Go on."

"Well, whether one believes that Crouch was actually sharing his bed 
with his elf, or that as you've suggested, it is a literary parallel 
designed to equate Winky with Mrs. Crouch, or that as Pippin has 
suggested, it is a parallel designed to equate the plight of the 
House Elves in general with those of housewives...well, I mean, no 
matter which approach you choose to take with this, there's just no 
getting around the fact that there's a sexualized subtext, is there?  
It's embedded in the text."

Eileen nods.  "What else?"

"Wasn't that enough?" whispers Elkins.

"You said sexualized subplots, Elkins.  SubplotS.  Plural."

"Well...oh, all right.  There's also Percy."

"Percy?"

"Yes.  There's more than a touch of homoerotic insinuation to all of 
those teasing comments that Ron and the Twins are always making about 
Percy's idolization of Crouch.  They all but accuse him of being 
Crouch's catamite, don't they?  Or at least of wanting very badly to 
be.  The tenor of the teasing does seem to imply a certain shared (if 
unspoken) recognition of the man's more charismatic qualities.  If 
Crouch were repulsive, then Percy's brothers would *still* probably 
be teasing him about wanting to marry him, but the nature of the 
teasing would be a little different.  It would have a slightly 
different edge to it.  A different slant."

"Yes.  And so?"

"Please don't make me say this, Eileen."

"And *so*?"

"And."  Elkins takes a deep shaky breath.  "And," she says, "and, 
well, and, and so Crouch really does seem to be getting a number 
of...well, of somewhat sexually-inflected subplots attached to him, 
doesn't he, while other characters who occupy similar roles in the 
text are not.  Ludo Bagman doesn't have any particularly sexualized 
undercurrents attached to him that I've ever noticed, and neither 
does Cornelius Fudge.  Crouch is a sexualized character in a way 
that other characters who perform similar functions to his in the 
text are not.  Which does seem to indicate..."

Elkins begins to gag helplessly.  She swallows hard and presses her 
head against her horse's neck.

"Which does seem to indicate," she gasps, eyes tearing.  "That the 
text does at least *facilitate* a reading of his character as...as..."

"As Dead Sexy?"

"Well, as a sexual being, at any rate."

"As Dead Sexy."

"Possibly as possessed of a certain magnetism."

"In other words, as Dead Sexy."

"Well..."

"As Dead Sexy."

"ALL RIGHT!" Elkins screams.  "All *right!*  As Dead Sexy.  *IF* you 
happen to like that sort of thing.  Which I myself absolutely do *NOT!
*  Okay?  Enough?  Does that *SATISFY* you, Eileen?  Are you *HAPPY* 
now?"

Eileen considers the question for a moment, then smiles.  

"Yes," she says. 



**************

Elkins 
(who far prefers Arthur Weasley)

*********************************************************************

REFERENCES:

Opening TBAY scenario: #43326

Eileen's original CRAB CUSTARD manifesto: #37476.

Crouch: #45693, #45402, #44636, #40543, #43010 and 
downthread responses.

Acronyms: #35630, #37498.

Ever So Evil Mrs. Crouch: #39573. 

ESE Winky: #39102.

Hurt-Comfort: #39083 and downthread responses.  

Comfort-Hurt: #43373 and downthread responses.

For further explanation of the acronyms and theories in this post, 
visit Hypothetic Alley at
http://www.i2k.com/~svderark/lexicon/faq/ 
and Inish Alley at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPforGrownups/database?
method=reportRows&tbl=13